A Class of His Own
by Ridley C. James
Summary: Tag on for Episode 14: Fish Scaler. Jack decides Mac just might need to blow off some steam after his performance evaluation with the new director. Some sparring ensues.


A Class of Your Own

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: Just a short one shot I couldn't resist even though I have two other stories I am working on. My muse is a little out of control. This is just a tag on for Episode 14: Fish Scaler. Slight spoilers, but nothing that will ruin it for anyone I don't think. I thought Mattie Webber did a great job with the team, but I couldn't help but to feel just a little bad for Mac…Jack must have been of the same mind as me;-). I know there have been several tags to this episode and I hope this one is not redundant. Enjoy!

RcJ

Jack found his partner just where he knew he would-in the gym. It wasn't a tough choice with Mac. Since Bozer had come on board, Mac would sometimes venture down to the lab, but before that it was always the weight room, or the Cave, as Riley had taken to calling the empty office that Jack and Mac had commandeered over a year ago. Mac had hung a couple of hammocks, Jack had even found an old Air Hockey table and an ancient Donkey Kong video game to go in there, along with their mini fridge and tiny television left over from Mac's college dormitory days. In the last couple of months Bozer had added a microwave and Riley had tossed in a furry zebra striped bean bag chair which Jack had mercilessly made fun of but secretly found extremely comfortable for power naps, even if the white strands were a bitch to get off his wardrobe of black. Surprisingly enough, no one had discovered their secret little hideout or if they had, no one had cared enough to evict them. Maybe Thornton had given it the all clear. That of course might change now that Mattie the Hun was on watch. Today though, Jack knew his partner would have retreated to work off some steam.

It had been clear by the expression on Mac's face that his performance review with their new director had not gone exactly like the kid wanted. He might have fooled everyone else with his easy smile and shrug of the shoulders as if the meeting went off without a hitch, but Jack knew him too well. He'd told them everything had gone perfectly fine. _Fine._ That was not a word Mac used in the traditional sense. His definition and Webster's explanation were often in direct contradiction.

So Jack was not in the least surprised when he heard the thumps and grunts coming from the open workout court where various heavy bags and speed bags hung. It was the time of day when most agents, even those dedicated enough to get in a pre-dinner session had vacated the premises. That was just the way Mac liked it. Jack pushed through the door with his usual enthusiasm just in time to hear his partner let out a string of curse words.

"Brother, what has that bag ever done to you?" Jack raised a brow at Mac, who was gripping his right gloved hand protectively close to his chest and doing a bit of an impressive jig that had nothing to do with fancy footwork required for boxing.

"Leave me alone, Jack." Mac hissed, quickly releasing his hand, rolling his shoulders in a way as to merely look like he was shaking off a hard hit.

"Should I come back after the big, bad, bag has finished you off?" Jack crossed the room, sitting the bottles of water he was holding down on a weight bench before joining Mac in front of the heavy bag. "Looks like that might not be too far off, but what kind of partner would I be if I left you at its mercy while you were injured."

"I'm not injured," Mac denied, though the grimace on his red, sweat covered face told a different story. "I just miscalculated, scrubbed the side of the bag. I might have stove up my wrist."

"I taught you better than that." Jack had boxed in the army and been pretty good at it. He'd had to work hard, but Mac, he discovered, was a natural. He had an easy grace and balance that belayed his tall wiry frame. It made him tough as hell to spar with in the training ring, like trying to tag smoke. "Let me see."

"I'm fine." Mac took a step back, cradling the hand once more. "What are you even doing here?"

"I came to see if you needed a ride home." Jack propped his hands on his hips. "Good thing I did because now it looks like you may need a trip to the ER."

"Stop being ridiculous." Mac glared at Jack, his breath still heavy from the workout. "I'm not going to the hospital because my punch glanced off the bag."

"Stop being a little girl and let me see for myself." Jack nodded to the bench. "You ever heard of a boxer's fracture?"

Mac rolled his eyes. "Nothing's fractured."

"Sit." Jack pointed to the bench again. He wasn't really as concerned about the hand as he was worried about another kind of brokenness. "Humor me."

Mac begrudgingly did what Jack asked without more protesting, yet another sign things were not well. Jack took a seat in front of the younger agent, straddling the bench like he would a saddle. With the imagery came a memory of his old horse, Damascus and he couldn't help to smile at the stubbornness his best friend shared with that magnificent animal. Damascus came to Jack as a rescue, all jacked up on fear and attitude, but Jack had loved that horse fiercely. Felt tenfold as much for the kid sitting in front of him.

"My injury is funny to you now?" Mac inquired.

"I didn't think you were injured." Jack met the blue gaze, winking. He reached for the hand in question, gently guiding it towards him. Mac had on a pair of familiar black bag gloves. Jack was pretty sure they were his as was the old Go Army shirt Mac was wearing. Someone had raided Jack's locker. Another sign that Mac had not planned on getting in a workout, but rather needed one after his meeting with Mattie. Jack could understand that. He had wanted to punch something after his as well.

"I'm not hurt, I'm just saying you look a little too pleased with yourself."

"Unlike you, who seems all cactus prickly." Jack gently pulled at the Velcro binding that adhered the straps of soft worn leather around Mac's wrist. "Can't a guy be in a good mood? We took a win for the team. Saved the day and made Weber look good. Gave old Bishop a fresh new start at life to boot."

"A life behind bars," Mac winced as Jack carefully tugged the glove from over his bare fingertips.

"Look at you all doom and gloom." Jack glanced up once his partner's hand was free. "I thought we agreed even doing time was better than a life on the run. Bishop said the same. Something change your mind about that?"

Mac shook his head. "It just seems a waste, you know."

"The man made some piss poor choices, brother." Jack began unwrapping the tape Mac had used beneath the glove, just the way Jack had taught him years ago. "He might have been coerced into some of it, but he was living a life by the sword in the Mafia long before that punk FBI stooge sunk his claws into him."

"But he seemed like a decent guy." Mac was watching Jack peel away the layers of wrap but Jack had a sense he was seeing something entirely different. "I mean he was a hell of an artist. He had talent. And he just wanted a normal life with his girl."

"People are complicated, Dude." Jack removed the last piece of tape, Mac's hand now completely unguarded. "Look at Thornton."

"That's what I mean." Mac flexed his fingers, releasing them with a hitched breath that spoke of pain. It just wasn't clear to Jack if that hurt was physical or emotional.

"Neither one of us saw it coming." Jack said it for what seemed like the hundredth time. He and Mac had talked the subject to death, consuming too much beer and way too much of their time. It was over and done with. Another dirty punch Jack didn't block in time to spare Mac a devastating blow. "We have to let it go. Start over with what we've got left, sort of like Bishop is trying to do."

"Right." Mac breathed again. "With Mattie the Hun."

Jack put the glove and wrappings on the floor, flashing his partner a quick glance. "You don't like her?"

"I don't know her," Mac clarified as Jack carefully gripped his hand, flipping it over to look at the kid's knuckles. They were red from pounding the bag. Jack wondered at just how long his partner had been working himself into a lather. "She doesn't know me."

"That goes without saying." Jack studied the last two knuckles on Mac's hand. They were already turning a little blue. "It's hard to like someone you just met."

"She likes Bozer," Mac pointed out.

Jack glanced up at him. "As Riley pointed out, everyone does."

"I didn't need Riley to remind me of that." Mac reached up with his free hand and tugged the camouflage bandana he'd tied around his head free, letting damp strands of blond hair fall across his forehead. He used the cloth to wipe sweat from his eyes. "I've lived a life time with Bozer being everyone's favorite."

Jack's mouth twitched. "He's not my favorite."

"Right." It garnered the hint of smile from Mac Jack had been hoping for, a quick roll of the eyes to boot. "You like Riley best."

"Wrong." Jack went back to prodding at the puffy whelp on the top of Mac's hand, eliciting a hiss from his partner. "Sorry. But what were you saying about Bozer being everyone's favorite?"

"You know I love Bozer, but growing up with the guy wasn't always so easy. Teachers loved him. My grandfather loved him. Our classmates thought he was hilarious. Girls found him adorable. Did you know he was voted Class Clown and Class Favorite every single year of middle school? People lined up to be his friend."

"Unlike you?" Jack pressed on a particular tender spot that had Mac jerking his hand away with an accusing glower.

"What about me?" Mac guarded the hand close, but Jack wasn't quite finished with his exam.

"I'm guessing people didn't take to you quite as quickly as they did Bozer." Jack gripped his partner's wrist, guiding the hand back to his side of the bench. He pressed on the wrist, watching Mac's face for any signs of distress. "I can see you as more of an acquired taste."

"Thanks a lot." Mac's blue eyes flashed again, but with a different kind of hurt. "Even my partner doesn't know what to make of me."

"Is that what Mattie said in your evaluation?" Jack didn't take the jab personally, saw it for what it was. A door opening. "That she didn't know what to make of you?"

"I don't remember her exact words." Jack snorted at that. Mac's recall was freakish. "How about you make a fist again and tell me the generalities of what The Hun said. Was it about the gun thing?"

"No." Mac clenched his hand into a fist. He let out a frustrated sigh. "I was expecting it, but for once that wasn't a choice I had to defend."

"Good. Can you twist your wrist around?" Jack was glad it wasn't about the gun. He'd given Mattie the heads up on that one, told her it was off the table and had been settled years ago by people even more tenacious than she. But with Weber you just never knew. "You don't need a gun when you've got a sharpshooter like me."

Mac snorted, showing Jack he could indeed flex his wrist both backwards and forwards. "She said you were a great agent."

At that Jack hesitated in his poking and prodding. "Really?"

"She said she understood how to use you, where you would be the most benefit." Mac paused long enough that Jack met his gaze once more. "She might not like you, Jack, but she trusts you."

"I don't care if Mattie likes me, Mac. Or to be honest, if she trusts me." Jack meant it. He was shooting straight when he'd said they'd once been friends, but he could care less about her opinion of him now. What he did mind was her messing with Mac. "I do care if she rattles your chains."

"She was merely being honest." Mac rubbed his free hand over the sweat pants he was wearing. Jack could practically hear the kid's wheels spinning, all the reasonable things Mac had been mulling over in that giant brain of his as he pounded the bag spilling out now. "It's obvious she values the truth, which isn't necessarily a bad thing considering our track record with bosses and team members."

"You can hold it still again." Jack nodded to Mac's wrist. He glanced at his partner, watching the blue gaze narrow ever so slightly. "I know our track record all too well, but it's hard to speak the truth about something she doesn't know or understand."

"She wouldn't be the first." Mac jerked when Jack pressed hard on the top of his hand where the small bones ran just beneath the surface of thin skin. Vulnerable and susceptible to injury. "Do you know how many IEP meetings my grandfather had to attend? For every science or math teacher who thought I was intelligent, there were five waiting in line to describe me as difficult or socially awkward. When I joined the Army, my drill sergeant tried to have me recycled. Twice."

"What can I say, Dude, people are afraid of greatness." Jack released Mac's hand convinced there wasn't a fracture, but certain Mac was more than a little bruised.

"Mattie thinks I'm dangerous." Mac flexed his fingers again before using them to pull at the Velcro strap on the glove he was still wearing. "That my improvising will get me or someone on the team killed."

"Did she say that?" Because if she had, Jack and the new director were going to have another chat. For all Thornton's faults, she always appreciated what Mac brought to the team. Valued and regarded him as the asset he was. Jack respected her for that. Despite all she'd seemingly done, she had always tried to watch Mac's back.

"She called me lucky." Mac unwound the wrist guard and slipped off the glove tossing it with the other. He gave Jack a look of incredulity. Considering the contents of Mac's file, Jack could understand why. Mac wasn't just some shot in the dark. He was a freaking genius with a gleaming track record that should have spoken for itself.

"What you do has nothing to do with luck." Jack reached behind him for the two water bottles he'd brought. He was beginning to understand where the evaluation went downhill. Mac was not one to think the odds worked in his favor. He fought hard to make sure he had the upper hand. It was intellect. Tenacity. Originality, but not luck.

"That's what I said." Mac took the bottle Jack offered him and unscrewed the cap with a vicious twist of his battered hand. The move had him sucking in a breath through clenched teeth and seemed to fuel his tirade. He jutted the bottle towards Jack, splashing some water on the bench between them. "I mean who is she to act as if all our successful missions are some good turn of fate? The odds are never that kind. If we were merely lucky, that luck would have run out long before now. I wanted to give her one of my grandfather's lessons in statistical averages but I thought she might somehow twist it to her favor."

"Somebody needs to let Mattie Weber know you're a freakin' big deal." Jack took a long drink of water, watching Mac's face color just like he knew it would. He might have been teasing his partner just a little, but Jack stood by the spirit of his words. In his mind Mac was a very big deal.

"I'm not some egomaniac, Jack." Mac put the bottle down, deflated by Jack's deflection. He began peeling at the tape still on his left wrist. "I don't need a fan section."

"That's not what I meant, Dude." Jack nudged his knee, waited for Mac to meet his gaze. "I mean that people who know you- really know you- know what you're capable of. They understand that what you bring to the job is unique and one of kind. You might not ever be elected Class Favorite, Dude, but you are in a class all your own."

"I appreciate that, Jack." Mac finished with the tape, rubbing his right wrist. He gave Jack a half grin. "But I'm not so sure Mattie would agree with you."

"Screw her." Jack gestured to Mac's wrist. "We need to get some ice on that soon."

"She's our boss," Mac pointed out, ignoring the unsolicited medical advice. "Not exactly ethical."

"Don't be cute." Jack nudged Mac's knee again, this time a little harder. "You know what I mean. We don't care what she thinks. Did I tell you I once saw her eat roasted Guinea pig in Peru? And she liked it! Talk about an acquired taste."

"Despite her questionable palette, Jack, what if she pulls me from the team, or benches me?" Mac picked up his water again, actually taking a drink this time. He swallowed hard. "The way she talked, she just might."

"Nobody puts MacGyver in a corner." Jack felt his own blood pressure rising now. Maybe he could take a few swings at the heavy bag. "Did she actually threaten you with that?"

"She's threw down a gauntlet of sorts." Mac took another drink, letting out a heavy breath. "I mess up just one time and she says I have to change everything. No more improvising. 'It falls from my vocabulary'. I don't know how not to improvise, Jack. It's how I'm wired. I can't just fit myself in that box. You know that didn't work in the Army. I won't try it again."

"Hey, hey," Jack lifted a hand to calm his friend. Again Damascus came to mind. That damn horse was as stalwart as they came when in familiar territory, but on a new trail, with strange horses around, he'd startle, bucking or bolting for all he was worth. Neither reaction ever worked out well. "No talking crazy. Once Mattie sees how well your way of doing things works she's going to back down. Trust me. I'm speaking as one of your biggest converts."

"And if she doesn't?" Mac's tone was no longer tinged with anger. It held a hint of doubt which in Jack's mind was much worse. It raised his hackles. Mac came off as all confidence, and under pressure there was no one more sure-fired, but if you knew him well, you could trace the small fissures in his game face. Kind of like the faint scars on Damascus that no one ever noticed but Jack.

"Then there are other places besides Phoenix."

"What?" Mac nearly choked on the water he'd just swallowed.

Jack ached at the wild eyed look his partner shot him. Uncertainty colored the light blue gaze. Jack realized beaten horses and abandoned boys had similar spirits. "What I'm saying is we have options. I've always wanted to try the private sector. We'd be awesome detectives, Dude. And there's Hammond's job offer. He'd love to take us on at Joint Forces."

"This isn't your battle, Jack." Mac shook his head, though his relief was palpable. "I don't want to bring you down with me."

"Wasn't it you who said that we're not just partners, we're family? Families stick together, come hell or high water." Jack bumped his water bottle against Mac's. "I go wherever you go, brother."

Mac studied him for a moment. Jack stayed real still. It was a different kind of staring contest than the one he'd won with Mattie. More like the ones he'd have with old Damascus, when instead of his pride, treasured trust was at stake.

"As long as you don't follow me into the showers." Mac finally grinned. Jack let out the breath he'd been holding. "Because that's the only place I'm going."

"If you make it a quick one we can still catch up with Riles and Bozer." Jack glanced up at the clock, silently cheering Mac's more typical resolve. "Bozer invited us to celebrate his glowing performance evaluation. Teacher's Pet is paying."

"Why not." Mac groaned as he stood up from the bench. "I'm dying to find out how he pulled this one off."

"I'm sure we're going to hear all about it. Might as well get a meal out of the deal." Jack grabbed his gloves and their empty water bottles. "Hell, knowing Bozer he may give us a dramatic reenactment of the whole thing."

"There might be scripts." Mac started for the door. He glanced at Jack. "You could play the role of Mattie, since you do know her best."

"Or I could bust you in the mouth." Jack raised his fist at the younger man.

"But you won't." Mac grinned and Jack knew he'd done an alright job of patching up his partner for the night. They'd deal with the rest as it came.

"Why's that again?" Jack shoved through the door and held it open for Mac, who caught him with an elbow to the ribs as he passed.

"Son of a…" Jack grit out.

"Because," Mac danced out of the older agent's reach with all the grace he used in the sparring ring. "We both know _I'm_ your favorite."

"Bozer is looking better all the time, brother." Jack called after him, rubbing his side. He couldn't help but to smile. "And put some freakin' ice on that wrist for crying out loud."

The End…


End file.
